


Patchwork

by Penda



Category: Tin Man (2007)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Romance, Slow-ish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-19 09:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8199121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penda/pseuds/Penda
Summary: Life, like many things, is a work in progress.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tentatively posting the first chapter, because I think it's finally done! I've never written anything this long before (it's already at 10000 words) so I hope it hasn't ended up being too messy. I've always been apprehensive about attempting a longer fic because I know how terrible I am at keeping track of all my ideas.
> 
> So, having said that, feedback would be greatly appreciated, even if it's just to let me know if this actually reads like a cohesive story!

“There's a letter for you Dad” Jeb said, sticking his head around the door to Cain's office. “From Central” he added, waving the it until his father took it from him.

Cain opened it, recognising DG's atrocious handwriting instantly. His heart fell as he read, and it must have shown on his face, because Jeb was quickly at his side.

“Is everything OK?” he asked, trying to peer at the letter.

Cain waved him off, shoving the unwelcome emotions down and continuing to read, stony faced.

“Everything is fine” he said, flatly, attention still on the letter. “Go and get ready for patrol, I'll be out in a minute.”

Jeb looked at him solemnly for a moment before stepping out without a word.

As soon as he was gone Cain sat heavily back down into his chair. Glitch- Ambrose- had gone ahead with the surgery. DG had written to tell him.

He swallowed, trying hard not to be hurt that he'd gone through with it without him there. After all, Ambrose could hardly be expected to wait on him... only Glitch _had_ said that...no, it didn't matter, he thought decisively, folding the letter and putting it in his pocket. What's done was done. It was Gli- _Ambrose's_ brain, and if he'd wanted to put it back in sooner rather than later, that was no business of his. Still, he hadn't been able to stop that cold flash that had flitted through him when he'd read it. Somehow it had felt like a rejection. He pushed the feeling away, burying it deep, and picked up his hat and coat. He stepped out to find Jeb, welcoming the distraction of work. If there was one thing he was good at, it was compartmentalising. All that time in the suit had made him an expert at repressing emotions, for better or for worse, and right now he had a job to do. His issues could wait until later.

He spent that morning in a foul mood all the same and the letter tucked into his pocket felt like it was made of lead.

 

\---------------

 

It had been roughly four months since the downfall of the Witch. They had stayed close at first, clinging to each other in victory and in ruins, but soon they had had to start getting the O.Z. back on track. The palace at Central City was reopened, and the royal family relocated there, with Glitch, Raw, and Cain in tow. Some of the former staff resurfaced, delighted to be working for the Queen once again, while many newcomers were glad to be of service to her. At least reopening the palace had also opened up some job opportunities, he'd thought wryly.

Though the Witch was gone there were still those with loyalties to her scattered across the kingdom, skulking about in various darkened corners, and something would have to be done about them soon. This was how Cain had ended up as captain of the royal guard, a position he hadn't wanted, so much as it had had to be filled and no one seemed to be stepping up to take it. If there was one thing Wyatt Cain knew, it was duty, and he was not one to stand idly by when there was work to be done. Jeb of course, had volunteered his services, and that of the rest of the rebel forces, soon joined by a few former Tin Men who had heard of his role in the Witch's downfall.

They had set up outposts all over the O.Z. calling for volunteers to help them restore order to the land, and to be on the look out for any rogue Longcoats. They began getting many reports from the East of the Witch's henchman seen dotted about, and once Cain felt they had a respectable group of officers at hand tackling them had been his first order of business.

So he'd headed out to where they had gotten the most reports of activity, Jeb at his side, feeling it was where he could do the most good. It saddened him to see how fast Jeb had been forced to grow, seeing only shadows of the child he'd known. But right now he didn't need a son, he needed a soldier. He swore that once it was all over, once the Longcoats and stray alchemists were rounded up, he would get back on track with him and get to know him once again.

He'd endured a rather tearful goodbye from Glitch and DG, and a bone-crushing hug from Raw, who had looked at Cain before departing, smiled at him and said: “Do not look too far ahead of you Tin Man. You may miss what is in front of you.”

He still had no idea what to make of such a cryptic statement. He was a literal-minded person with no time for riddles, so he'd put it out of his mind, at least for the time being.

He'd promised them he'd be back soon, for a visit, if nothing else. That had been almost 3 months ago.

But he would, soon, he told himself. He was just busy, that was all. Just busy.

 

\---------------

 

He had received letters from DG every now and then, but never from Glitch, though if something were wrong with him he was sure the princess would have mentioned it. He told himself he'd be back soon, but the days turn to weeks and in the end he doesn't make it back to the palace for another month.

All that time the thought that he might have lost a dear friend worries at the corners of his mind, though he refuses to pay it more attention than it's due. Glitch or Ambrose, he was still one of the best men Cain had ever known.

It is this thought that still tugs on him incessantly as he is admitted into the hall through the palace's ostentatious double doors. He'd tried to sneak in through the tradesman's entrance but the guards and footmen would have none of it. The grandeur of the place still set his teeth on edge, and he eyed the pale green marble pillars in distaste.

He was barely inside before he heard a familiar voice shout his name.

“Cain!”

Glitch practically threw himself into the Tin Man's arms grinning like mad, propriety be damned. He patted Glitch on the back, unable to hold back a smile of his own, and felt a long awaited relief wash over him at his enthusiastic greeting. Even with all of his marbles Glitch, it seemed, was still Glitch. The palace staff stared at this display openly with apprehension and mild horror. He guessed this wasn't the usual conduct they were used to from Royal Advisors. Cain thought this was, quite frankly, _hilarious_.

“It's good to see you too Sweetheart.” It surprised him just a little how sincerely he meant it.

 _Absence makes the heart grow fonder._ He pushed the unbidden thought away brutally, refusing to pay it any heed. Cain held his friend at arms length, quickly taking stock of him in the way only a wary Tin Man's eye can.

The zipper was gone, leaving a thin scar in it's wake, and he looked different without it. Not better or worse, just different. His hair, whilst a little more well kept, was as messy as ever. His smile was bright, but all the same Cain could see tiredness pulling at his features, a weariness that hadn't been there the last time he'd seen him. He was still wearing his raggedy coat, though all his other clothes looked new. His shirt wasn't buttoned correctly, which for some reason Cain found almost unbearably endearing, and the sight of him tugged on the heartstrings he sometimes tried valiantly to pretend he didn't have.

He could still feel the judging gazes of the staff and he was overcome suddenly with the need to get Ambrose away from them. He wanted them somewhere quite, and private where they could talk. He felt like they had a lot to catch up on.

“Well, aren't you going to show me to my room?” he asked, nudging his companion.

“Oh! Of course, follow me Cain!” said Glitch, turning on his heel and bounding off in the direction of the stairs.

Not that he'd forgotten where his room was, but anything to get them out of the way (though he wasn't even sure his friend had noticed they were being stared at). He picked up his bag before the footman could swoop in and do it for him, (he could carry his own damn stuff, thank you very much), and let Glitch escort him upstairs, listening to him chatter away pleasantly all the while. He barely paused for breath and Cain smiled as he talked of nothing but pastries for a good 3 minutes.

He took the opportunity to observe his friend, to note the difference in him since the rebrainment. There was a surety in his gait that been absent before, and his speech seemed smoother and more coherent. _Different, but not bad._ Oddly enough, Cain was somehow left feeling that Glitch felt more _himself,_ despite having no idea what he was like before the headcasing.

He continued to listen indulgently as he dumped his bag unceremoniously on the floor. The room looked just as he'd left it, which was to say, empty of all personality and impeccably tidy.

“-and the cherry and almond scones are amazing, you have to try them- are you hungry?” he asked suddenly “We can go downstairs and have something to eat.”

Cain smirked at him. “You made yourself hungry talking about food didn't you?”

Glitch graced him with an enigmatic smile.

“There's always room for tea and scones Wyatt,” he replied, not giving him an answer either way.

 

\---------------

 

Cain allowed himself to be led down to one of the small parlours near the kitchens. They had often spent a quite afternoon in there with DG before he'd left for the East. He wondered where the princess was right now. He felt strangely guilty for not knowing. Maybe he had been away too long.

They reached the doors but Glitch began to walk straight past them, so Cain reached out tugging him back by his sleeve and smiling.

“You're going the wrong way Glitch-” he paused “ or, I guess it's Ambrose now, isn't it?”

It was the first time either of them had brought it up. It wasn't awkward, so much as tense, and somehow he felt he was awaiting a verdict.

Glitch stopped, chewing his lip thoughtfully. Cain stared, and then wondered why he was staring. _Compartmentalise, compartmentalise._

“Yes, I suppose it is” came the vague reply. But before Cain could press the matter further Ambrose had pushed open the doors to the parlour and stepped through.

 

\---------------

 

Queen Lavandra was already there when they entered, and the sight of her brought Ambrose up short.

“Oh!” he said, faintly. Cain wondered if he'd forgotten she was in there, or if he was genuinely surprised to find the room occupied.

The Queen smiled warmly, gesturing them into the seats opposite her and calling for more tea. She couldn't have been expecting them then, but she showed no signs they had intruded upon her. The maid returned with a fresh pot of tea and, Cain noted with some amusement, a plateful of scones.

“It's good to see you again, Mr Cain” she said, picking up her cup as it was refreshed. The plate of scones had barely touched the table before they were set upon by Ambrose.

“I trust all goes well in the East?” she inquired.

Cain knew she must have read the reports already, but he filled her in nonetheless, knowing an invitation to small talk when he heard one. Things were going well in fact, better than they could have hoped for. Many of the Longcoats were turning themselves in and so far the few that resisted hadn't put up much of a fight.

DG, he learned, had recently gone up North with Azkadellia, hoping to return the Northern Palace to it's former glory. He tried to remember if she'd mentioned this in any of her letters. He tried to remember when he'd last responded to any of her letters. He realised, with a pang, that he's not sure if he ever had.

“She's really very passionate about it” said Lavandra, affection colouring her voice “and I think it will do Azkadellia some good to spend time away from the Central Palace with her sister.”

“I do remember how fond she was of the Northern Palace when she was small,” Ambrose said in-between bites of his fifth scone, smiling wistfully at the thought. He reached over for a sixth (Cain marvelled that he could eat so many) his tattered sleeve trailing across the tablecloth.

The Queen's sharp eyes caught sight of it and her mouth tightened minutely.

“Ambrose, dear, I do wish you'd let me get you a new coat, that one's gone all to ribbons. It's a wonder it's still holding itself together!”

She reached over, rubbing the raggedy edge of his sleeve between her delicate fingers. Ambrose, who had stilled at the Queens words, stiffened even further as she reached towards him, tension shooting through his previously relaxed demeanour. He tugged the sleeve out of her grip, smiling thinly, and avoiding her gaze.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, but I'm quite attached to this one.” he said, and it could almost have been mistaken for apologetic, if his whole being didn't scream quite defiance.

Lavandra's lips were pressed into a thin line, but she did not pursue the matter further. Ever the detective, Cain filed this away for later.

The rest of their conversation passed amiably enough, though Ambrose, Cain noticed, seemed oddly quite afterwards, and stared balefully down at his scones most of the time.

 

\---------------

 

Afterwards Cain headed back to his room, trailed doggedly by Ambrose who seemed deep in thought. Neither of them had spoken since they left the Queen.

“You can call me Glitch, if you want to” his companion said suddenly.

“What?” asked Cain, stopping on the stairs, thrown by the non-sequitur.

Ambrose twisted his hands in his tattered coat nervously before elaborating.

“Earlier on you said- you asked- if you should call me Ambrose or- well anyway, you can call me Glitch.” He shook his head and continued more strongly “I'd like it if you called me Glitch.”

Cain watched him carefully. They were on the edge of a meaningful conversation he could tell. He wasn't very good at those, but for Glitch he'd try.

“Are you sure?”

Ambrose nodded. “I have a lot of people to call me Ambrose, I'd like it if I had a few still calling me Glitch too. It was my name for so long and I just...I'd rather not forget...”

A shadow passed over his his face and Cain wanted desperately to wipe it away.

“I don't want to forget anything like that again” he admitted quietly.

It struck him abruptly how lonely Glitch must be without DG and Raw, especially given his current relationship with the Queen. Suddenly the dim stairway seemed cavernous around them, like some enormous beast that had swallowed them whole. He thought of Glitch, alone in such a place, and guilt crushed down on his battered heart.

“What's bothering you, Glitch? You don't seem too happy.” It was perhaps a blunt and tactless way to show his concern, but Cain was a blunt, if not always tactless, person and Glitch had always seemed to appreciate his honesty before. Glitch chewed his lip again, and this time Cain stared fixedly at his shoulder to avoid seeing it.

“Let's talk in your room?”

There was a pleading note to it that Cain knew deep in his soul he was never going to be able to deny.

 

\---------------

 

“Now” Cain said, handing Glitch a drink and sitting next to him on the edge of the bed “tell me, what's wrong.”

Glitch heaved a sigh that made Cain tired just listening to it.

“Oh Wyatt,” he said morosely “I hardly know where to begin.” He ran a fretful hand through his untidy hair.

Cain set his drink down. “It's OK, we've got all night. What was all that about with the Queen?”

Glitch huffed smiling wryly.

“Lavandra, it seems, is having a hard time accepting that I'm not the same man that I used to be.”

He worried a rip in his coat as he spoke, and Cain fought the urge to still his restless hands with his own.

“She wants me to take up my old position but I don't think I want to.”

“Have you told her this?”

“...”

“Glitch...”

“I know, I know!” he exclaimed suddenly, getting up and placing his untouched drink on the bedside table. He began to pace, gesturing animatedly all the while.

“But I can't bear to disappoint her again after all she's been through-”

Cain wanted to point out that Ambrose had been through a lot too, but he seemed to have some thoughts he needed to work out and he was loathe to interrupt. He got the feeling this was the first time he'd talked about this with anyone.

“-and she keeps expecting be to behave like I used to but I just _can't_ ” he said desperately “I'm not the same Cain, why can't she _see_ that” he began tugging on his hair again “she looks at me like she's seen a ghost and I can't stand it Wyatt, I can't!”

“Hey,” Cain laid a hand on Ambrose's arm, steering him back down to sit on the bed before he could work himself into even more of a state.

He kept his hand on his arm, watching as Glitch calmed himself, looking weary and despondent.

“The truth is Cain, that I don't feel as if I'm really here, if you understand me. Everyone is always on edge around me, and Lavandra looks right through me most days. I feel... _untethered_. Like I could just walk out of the doors this instant and just never come back. Oh I'm not going to,” he added seeing Cain's aghast look “but that's how I feel all the same. Like everyone is trying to push me backwards, into a mold that won't fit. No one is interested in who I am now, they only want who I _used_ to be.”

He sighed, flopping backwards on the bed, leaving Cain to process this very heavy thought. He reached out again, unable to stop himself or think better of it, laying a hand on Glitch's shoulder.

“You need to do what makes you happy, Glitch. After everything that's happened, you deserve it. And you need to be honest with the Queen, because she deserves it too.”

He should take is hand away. He doesn't. Glitch is chewing his lip again. Cain can feel his heart in his ears.

“Will you come with me?” Glitch asked, sounding small. “When I tell her?”

“Of course. Anything.”

Glitch smiled, placing his own hand over Cain's.

 _Anything_.

 

\---------------

 

Cain didn't get much sleep that night. He kept thinking about about the feel of Glitch's hand over his own. Human contact was often still such an alien thing to him, even after all these months, but Glitch's hand had settled so easily, so naturally, over his own. It had been warm and work roughened, the hands of an inventor. It was with an awful, gnawing certainty that Cain realised his affection for the other man had only grown over time, and could soon blossom into something beyond his control.

The thought terrified him, as did the thought of facing Glitch in the morning after this revelation, and he finally succumbed to sleep with his nerves tied up in knots.

 

\---------------

 

They were having breakfast next morning when a letter comes in for Cain. He was needed back in the East. They looked at each other, both thinking back to yesterday's conversation.

“It's OK” Glitch said, smiling sadly “You have to go. It's important.”

 _You're important_ , he wanted to say, but the words got stuck in his throat.

“I'll be back soon,” he promised, as sincerely as he could manage. Surely, it could wait a few days. Glitch smiled back at him, but doesn't look convinced. He picked up his coat, not daring to look back as he left. He told himself he wasn't running away, but he felt like a coward all the same.

 

\---------------

 

He had barely been back at the Outpost two days when he received an urgent telegram from Central Palace.

Glitch was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lavender Eyes is never given an actual name so I made one up for her- Lavandra is taken from 'lavandre' which is the french word that the lavender flower takes it's name from.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait a bit before publishing the next chapter, but since I've written a decent amount in advance, and this one isn't very long I thought I'd post it early.

Glitch rolled over in a tangle of bedsheets and promptly dropped onto the floor. He blinked up at the ceiling, marvelling how it could take one so long to get used to sleeping in a bed again. He pushed the bedsheets off and began to get dressed, thinking mostly of what was going to be on the breakfast table downstairs. He tried not to think about how quickly Cain had left, and how lonely he was going to be once more. Shirt buttoned (properly this time) he reached for his coat where he had left it hanging over the back of a chair- only to find it gone. He looked around, wondering if he'd moved it and forgotten about it, but it was nowhere in sight. Frowning he began to search the room, growing more frantic with each passing second.

After 10 minutes his room was in total disarray and the coat was nowhere to be found. Panic was creeping up on him as he began to doubt himself, searching his memory in vain for where he could have left it. There were only two things he possessed that he cared for and one of them was missing. He slipped his hand under the mattress, relieved to find the other was still there. He slipped it into his pocket for safekeeping, resuming his search. Finally the only place left to check was the wardrobe. He never put his coat in there, barely used it in fact, but with nowhere else left to look, he pulled the doors open anyway.

Hanging inside was a new coat, impeccably pressed, without a thread out of place.

He ran for the door as he heard footsteps passing, stopping the maid, ( _Elena_ , he thought her name was) on her way past with a basin of water.

“My coat- where is it?” he demanded.

Elena looked startled by his sudden agitated question, and almost spilled some water from the basin, but she answered nonetheless.

“Her Majesty, sir, she told me I was to get rid of it- that she had a nice new one for you-”

She doesn't finish her sentence, Ambrose already racing off towards the dining hall, all thoughts of breakfast forgotten.

 

\---------------

 

Ahamo and Lavandra were still having breakfast when he entered, throwing the doors open despite the wait-staffs' protests he announce himself first.

“You had no right!” he seethed, storming up to the table, more angry than he could remember being in a long time.

The Queen, who had looked rather startled at his intrusion, hardened her gaze, her usually kind eyes like cold purple shards in her regal features.

“I got rid of it Ambrose, it was not fit for you, or anyone in my service-”

“I am not, strictly speaking, in your service Lavandra, and even if I were it would still not give you the right to choose what I wear, as if I were some sort of- _possession_ with which you may do as you please!”

He almost regrets his words at the look of hurt that flashes across her face. Almost.

“Look Ambrose,” said Ahamo intervening, ever the diplomat. “You know that's not the case at all, just sit down and we can discuss this. It was only a coat after all, surely-”

This was of course the wrong thing to say, as Ambrose was not at all in a reasonable sate of mind. All his unhappiness and frustrations came bubbling to the surface at once, and he was unable to keep it back any longer.

“No! No, it was not only a coat, it was all I had!”

“Ambrose dear, it's not all you have-” Lavandra tried in a placating tone, but quite frankly he had had enough of being placated.

He wished one of them would lose their temper, shout at him, _anything_ , if they would only speak to him in something other than a simpering, soft voice, as if he were a child to be coddled and protected.

As if he were not in his right mind.

“You try wandering about for annuals and annuals with only a coat to your name, and no name to speak of and see how easily you would give it up afterwards!”

He had finally broached the unspeakable subject but did not stay to continue the argument. Shaking with anger, he turned and stormed out of the dining hall before they could say anything else.

 

\---------------

 

Glitch had felt Wyatt's absence keenly after he had left. For the first 3 days or so after his departure he would often forget that he was gone, and DG and Raw had had to keep reminding him. But soon the thought managed to take root in what little remained of his brain, and with it a little blanket of melancholy settled over his thoughts. Even the assurance that Cain would return hadn't been able to shake it off.

DG and Raw had kept him company of course, and done their best to distract him, but even they could not be expected to pander to his moods all the time. Time stops for no one, and especially not for one addle brained adviser, and soon Raw was leaving to take Kalm home to his people, to act as diplomat and any manner of other important things. But he would be back, he'd promised them, fervently, burying them both in heartfelt hugs.

Glitch wished he would write, but Viewer's had very little need for a written language of their own, and Raw did not know how to read the Common alphabet (he could write an approximation of his name and nothing else). Raw had been a steadying presence for him after Cain's departure; he seemed to be the only person who could be around Glitch without fretting over him, and they'd often sat quietly together in the palace gardens. They had been wildly overgrown, and the untamed plants made him feel oddly at home. It had been rather disappointing to see the gardeners get it under control.

DG, bless her heart, managed to worry over him even as she was dealing with her own memory issues, and the slow initiation into her royal duties. He saw little of Azkadellia, which was perhaps best, for the time being. And the Queen. Lavandra, who Glitch had never forgotten, even as he forgot himself. She could barely look at him without getting great tears in her lavender eyes, and it had left Glitch feeling like she was looking through him, seeing Ambrose's shadow cast behind him.

The palace staff had all seemed to be walking on egg shells around him (the Queen's doing, he suspected), eyeing him strangely when they thought he wasn't looking. He had no idea if any of them had known him from before the headcasing; he didn't recognise any of them. He didn't know if they stared at him because he was a headcase, or because they knew how he was before, but in the end it didn't matter.

He'd hoped it would stop once his brain was out of the jar and back into his skull, but alas, he'd had no such luck. There had been all manner of tests after the surgery, which was to be expected, and with a little time, he'd passed them all with flying colours, made a full recovery so to speak. At first he felt no different, but his memories would begin to filter through in time, he was told. He thought of it like this: his mind was a library, only some of the books had been missing for a long, long time. Now they were back on the shelves where they belonged, but he couldn't seem to remember what was in them anymore, and the only way to find out was to get them out and look. He found it helped to think of things in metaphors sometimes.

Of course it was impossible to fully restore his mind; there was a scar across his brain to match the one across his skull, and though minor, there were still some side effects to be expected. Sometimes his mind would feel full to bursting with thoughts he couldn't grab hold of, and he would sit quietly for hours in his room trying to sort them all out. The Queen was eager that he should return to his position as adviser once he was sufficiently recovered, but Ambrose had other things on his newly restored mind.

His workshop was in shambles (the Sorceress' work, evidently) and he threw himself into restoring it to order, eager to get back to inventing. His scientific knowledge was coming back in fits and starts, and his mind buzzed with more and more ideas everyday. He spent hours in his workshop getting reacquainted with his tools and his methods, taking apart and rebuilding anything he could get his hands on; he had to practice if he were to make his ideas reality, after all.

And with his mind clearer, he found it easier to sort out the mess of memories from his time spent wandering the O.Z. He would often regale DG with some of his adventures over breakfast, telling her about the things he had stumbled across in his travels, of his time spent in the mountains of the West, or of the time he saw the Great Desert up close. It was then that he noticed Lavandra's reluctance to acknowledge directly his time spent as 'Glitch'. She tried valiantly to change the subject anytime it was brought up, and winced when DG called him anything but Ambrose. He wondered if she'd done that before the surgery and he'd just never noticed. He stopped talking about it in front of her, not wanting to upset her further. And when Ambrose had refused to wear anything other than his raggedy old coat she'd come very close to losing her temper, though she'd reigned it in at the last minute.

With every memory of his advisor days that return Glitch found he loathed the idea of going back to it more and more. It was an important job, he remembered as much, but after all he'd seen, the thought of going back to offices and paperwork and carefully worded speeches was almost unbearable to him. How could he do that when he could invent so many things to make people's lives better? To help the O.Z? He doesn't know how to tell Lavandra. He has already disappointed her so much. His thoughts are hard to call to order these days and he doesn't know if they'll ever be coherent enough for diplomatic work again, even if he'd wanted to return to his old life.

But his _machines_. They still made sense to him. They fell together under his fingers and the whirr of engines and the hiss of steam calmed his hectic thoughts even on his worst days. His workshop became his sanctuary, especially when DG is busy up north. DG who called him Glitch less and less as more of her memories returned, remembering him as 'Ambrose' from her childhood. With Raw gone there was no one to call him it, and he finds he misses the moniker more than he thought he would

And then, weeks later, when he set eyes on Wyatt Cain in the palace foyer, in his heart, it felt like coming home.

 


End file.
